


Except to You

by orphan_account



Category: DC Animated Universe, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Abuse, F/M, Manipulation, No Smut, author makes lame jokes, not meant to be romanticized
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 11:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9605054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: You thought you could leave Jerome Valeska in the asylum where you found him, but he makes sure that you learn that you can't rid of him.





	1. Breakout

**Author's Note:**

> OKAYYY so before we get going here, I just want to make it clear that this is NOT meant to be romantic, despite it being about a relationship. A relationship with Jerome Valeska would most likely involve abuse, whether it be emotional or physical (though then again Gotham is a different canon so who knows). Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying "Jerome relationship bad, and you are abuser if you like him" because that's just dumb. That's like saying if you like the crazy lady from Stephen King's Misery, then you condone kidnapping people if it's to force them to rewrite their book to your liking before you kill them. Maybe you just like reading about crazy people. All calling people abusers for having crushes on problematic/abusive characters really accomplishes most of the time is cause people to be quiet about their feelings, which leads to other problems.
> 
> Being attracted to Jerome Valeska is fine, just so long as his traits aren't a part of your criteria for a perfect partner in real life. Really, if you meet a real life Jerome Valeska RUN THE OTHER WAY. But fantasizing about him is OKAY, and it's perfectly healthy to do so, or to roleplay similar scenarios with people you trust. I say all of this because I see a lot of discourse about Jerome fans on Tumblr and I just wanted to make my intentions for this story clear.
> 
> ANYWHOSIES, thanks for reading!
> 
> Song for this Chapter: Where is My Mind? - Yoav version featuring Emily Browning, from the Sucker Punch soundtrack

You ran through the halls, panting heavily. You heard the maniacal laughter behind you, echoing through the halls and enveloping your still running body. Chills ran down your spine as you shut yourself in a room and ran to grab a chair from a nearby desk and tuck it under doorknob so no one could get in. Your breathing slowed down as you look around the room. This was the office of the director of the asylum.

Relieved, you ran back over to the desk and grabbed a telephone. “GCPD, what’s your emergency?” a voice crackled. You almost burst into tears right then and there.

“Oh, thank God!” you whispered, just loud enough to be audible over the phone. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I’m an employee at Arkham Asylum.” You winced as you heard a loud crash outside, only God knew what was happening out there. Your voice cracked when you spoke again, tears beginning to stream down your face. “Please help, the inmates took over. I think they killed the staff. They’re running around, trying to kill each other. Please hurry, I’m not sure how long I have before they get to me.”

“M’am, where exactly in the building are you?” the officer asked.

“I’m hiding in the director’s office,” you told him.

“Stay there, the GCPD will arrive to handle the situation and we will have officers escort you out of the building,” you’d never felt so relieved. You thanked the officer again and again before the he told you to get off of the phone and for a few moments, you were in a happy, peaceful silence.

You yelped in fear when you heard a bang on the door. “Come on out, sweetheart!” you saw his eyes through the small slit on the door. “I promise if you come with me, I won’t hurt ya.” You looked around the office for any sharp object you could find. You heard another bang, and then you heard something clatter on the floor, you looked over and saw that it had been a screw from the door. The door was looser, and the chair shook a little.

“Y/N!” he called in a sing-song voice. “Don’t make me come in there.” You thrust open a drawer and among a pile of unused envelopes you found a penknife.

“Alright, I’m giving you to the count of three,” he said, his voice several registers lower. You grasped the pen knife tightly in your hand before tucking it in the pocket of your dress. Better to surprise when he thinks he has the upper hand. “One…” you curled yourself into a ball behind the desk. “Two…” you started crying harder than you were before, unsure of what exactly got you where you were. “Three!” The chair gave away, a leg falling off it, and the door swung open. You heard his heavy footsteps toward the desk. He was moving slowly to toy with you, to prolong your useless prayers.

Closer, closer, and closer. You winced slightly at each step he took, until he stopped right next to the desk. Your heart skipped a beat. What was he doing? Does he not know exactly where you are?

“BOO!” he shouted as suddenly appeared, crouching in front of you. You screamed as grabbed you roughly by the arm and forced you up before engulfing you in his arms. You cried hysterically as he ran a hand through your hair. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…” he said in a soft voice. “What am I going to do with you?” He pulled away slightly, and lifted your red, tear-stained face to meet his intense gaze. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, didn’t I?” You didn’t answer, you just looked at him, fear-stricken. “Of course,” he spun you around and shoved you against the wall behind you. He grabbed your hair and pinned it to the wall. You cried out in pain as he scowled at you. “That was only if you listened to me when I told you to come out, which you didn’t.”

“Please,” you whispered. “Please let me go.”

“Don’t fight this, Y/N,” he said. “You know you’re as crazy as I am, you’re just letting your fear control you.” You closed your eyes, trying to deny that any of this is happening. “It is only when you let go of your fear that you can see clearly.”

Brrriiiiiiiinnng.

You felt your heart drop in your chest. Please don’t be the GCPD, you pleaded mentally. Jerome loosened his grip, but still held you firmly in place. He looked at the phone right as it went to voicemail.

“Ms.Y/L/N, this is the GCPD, please pick up the phone,” you looked at Jerome in panic, who only gave you his signature grin before picking up.

“This is Jerome Valeska,” he said, as if he were a news anchor. He was facing away from you. You could hear the incoherent voice on the other end. You reached for the knife in your dress and gripped it tightly as you listened to Jerome. You could hear the voice shouting on the other end. “Don’t you worry, Ms.Y/L/N is safe with me, we have no need for you to come down here.” He stepped back, letting go of your hair, and hooked an arm around your waist. Now you were close enough to make out some what the officer was saying.

“If you hurt Ms.L/N, then the GCPD will-” Jerome cut them off by gasping.

“Don’t tell me!” he said in a high-pitched, mocking voice. “You’ll send me to Arkham, and lock me up with the those other looneys!” he pretended to start crying, before breaking into laughter. Then he deadpanned. “Don’t worry about Ms.L/N, didn’t I say she was safe with me? I wouldn’t bother coming here, she and I will be long before you arrive.

He slammed the phone down, giving a short chuckle. He looked down at you, and pulled you closer to him. “Well, that sure was fun,” he said to you, leaning way too close into you. “But we should get going, we have to hurry because someone-” he lifted your chin, a little forcefully, and you were forced to look at his eyes, which held darker thoughts than the grin on his face suggested. “-snitched on us. Now, I just happened to overhear one of the guards bragging about his corvette the other day, and I don’t think he’ll mind if we borr-”

You didn’t waste another moment. You grabbed the penknife from your dress and cried out as you sank it in his shoulder. He shouted in pain, you took it out, reasoning that you’d need it to defend yourself, but also secretly hoping that he’d bleed out right there in the director’s office. You threw his arm off of you and ran out of the room. Your stomach lurched when you heard his laughter echo down the halls.

Before you could be noticed as an employee, you went to the laundry room in the basement, grabbing an asylum dress and putting it over your own. It was two sizes too large, but it helped you mix in. You went back outside to find the exit.

The other inmates were running around, not focusing on you. They were trying to find a way to unlock the doors so that they could all finally break out once and for all. You had your own copy of keys in your dress, all you needed was to get to one of the exit doors and you were safe from there on out. You went to one of the exit doors and saw a band of inmates trying to knock it down, which was a useless effort, Gathering your strength, you spoke out.

“The director’s office is open, someone go get the keys!” The inmates heard you, and you backed into the wall to let them pass. Once they had gone you went to the door, taking your keys out and unlocking it. You heard a grunt behind you, and turned to see one of the inmates on the other side of the hall. He was large, at least twice your size. He charged at you, screaming.

You ran behind the door and struggled to push the heavy weight closed. You tried to find your key again as he got closer. You found the one you’d used and locked the door just as he slammed into it. You ran away, taking your asylum dress off, having no further need of it, and not wanting to the GCPD to mistake you for a patient. You ran down hall after hall, unlocking door after door, before you finally got to the main entrance. You pushed out into the rainy outside. You saw the police cars, and the sirens were actually hurting your ears. You sank to your knees.

Officers peeled out of their cars, running up the steps of the asylum. One of them yanked you up and guided you down the stairs. You looked over your shoulder as you walked, watching the police storm the asylum like knights storming a castle. You could’ve sworn that you heard his laughter and warned the officer helping you into the back of the police cruiser that you think Jerome Valeska might have made it to the exit.

As it later turned out, Jerome had remained in the director’s office where you’d left him for quite some time, and had barely made it out of the room before the GCPD found him and locked him back in his cell with the other patients. What you thought was his laugh was just your imagine.

Still the sound would come to haunt your dreams that night and every night thereafter.


	2. Break-In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N reflects on the first time she met Jerome, and tries to find a way back to the life she lived before. This dream proves to be impossible, in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait, but thank you for the kudos and comments! :)

The breakout was handled more easily than expected. The weaker inmates were flocking close together, making it easier to put them all away at once, and the stronger ones traveled alone, so it was easier for multiple officers at once to take them down. You don’t know the other details of what happened, as you were in the police cruiser the whole time. You knew that Jerome was probably found laughing hysterically, but you wondered if he’d said anything.

After the GCPD closed the case, chalking it up to an employee being overpowered when letting the inmates out of their rooms, the Asylum was re-staffed to replace the ones who’d been killed, but you did not return. You couldn’t stand the thought of seeing Jerome again, not after everything that had happened.

 

_You were working at Arkham as an aide. You assisted the doctors and nurses, and performed most non-medical care for the patients. Your contact with patients was minimal, all you did was deliver meals and medication in their rooms. You greeted them all bright and smiling, which some didn’t see because you had to slide the food through a slot in the door for your own safety. Unfortunately, Jerome Valeska wasn’t considered to be that dangerous while in captivity._

__

_After he had his face reattached in the wake of his resurrection, he was immediately sent back to Arkham. The following day you were supposed to take him to the multi-purpose room with the other patients. You were afraid, but you shook it off. After all, he was just like the other patients, with a little more notoriety. All he needed was professional help._

__

_You went to his assigned room, you eyed the slot on the door that you would deliver his meals and (should he need it) medication in if you felt too unsafe to deliver it in person. Hopefully things wouldn’t come to that. While you paused, you’d noticed that there was no sound coming from the other side of the door. None of the laughter that you’d heard so much about. You took a breath, silently cursing yourself. Why are you treating this with so much fear? You took this job so that you could help others, and you were going to help Jerome Valeska in any way you could._

__

_You knocked on the door, and then let yourself in using your key. You’re not sure what you had expected to see, but it definitely wasn’t Jerome Valeska laying his bed, arms crossed beneath his head, looking up at the ceiling, perfectly relaxed, as if he were relaxing on a beach somewhere rather than a mental health facility for criminals. You didn’t realize this until later, but he had a faint smile on his face, not like the maniacal one he usually had. He smiled like he knew a secret that no one else did._

__

_He didn’t appear to notice you, but you had a feeling he was just ignoring you. You cleared your throat, and his eyes darted to you. You gave him a big, but obviously insincere smile. “Good morning, Mr.Valeska, I am Y/N Y/L/N, I’m here to take you to the multi-purpose room, and also assist you for any non medical care…” You trailed off as he sat up, his smile replaced by a mocking smirk. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and put his elbows on top of his knees._

__

_“Please, call me Jerome,” he said, bobbing his head playfully. “Mr.Valeska was my...well, my father wasn’t Mr.Valeska, he was just blind.” His father that he murdered by stabbing him in the eye. You expected him to laugh after making this quip, but he stayed grinning at you. You clasped your hands in front of you, attempting to to appear composed._

__

_“Yes, of course. Well then, if you would come with me…” You gestured to the door. Jerome hopped off of the bed, acting as though he were only being to asked to go out for some drinks._

__

_“Of course,” he said. His attitude looked strange, especially in his asylum uniform, which more looked like a prison uniform, a look which always bothered you about Arkham. You walked down the halls._

__

_“Seeing as this isn’t your first time in Arkham, I already know you don’t need to know the rules,” you said to him. “But we have gotten a new director since then, and so we’ve also had a change in rules, and I’m required to tell you what is available to you in the asylum. Every day you will be in the multi-purpose room unless you have a meeting with the your doctor, it’s sleeping hours, or we have reason to believe it isn’t safe for you to be around the other patients. There are a variety of books and magazines you can read to entertain yourself, but should you need anything else, just ask for me and I’ll see if I can help you.” You reached the doors the multi-purpose room, you grabbed the handle and held the door open for Jerome. “Good day, Mr...Jerome, I hope you are comfortable here at Arkham.”_

__

_“Oh, I’m sure I will be,” he said as he walked by you. “Thank you, Ms.L/N, you sure know how to make a guy feel welcome.”_

__

_“Please, call me Y/N,” you said, smiling charmingly. “Ms.L/N is my mother’s name.” You used his words in an attempt to be chummy and make him more comfortable around you, which, looking back, you really wish you hadn’t done. You let go of the door as he turned to look at you, grinning wider than at any point in this encounter._

__

_“Oh, really?” he inquired. “How did you kill your mom?” And then he laughed. His laugh sounded more frightening than when you heard it on TV, but maybe that was because he was looking straight at you that it chilled you to the bone._

__

_The door shut._

__

_You turned around and walked away at the fastest pace you could manage._

__

_For the rest of that work day, you made your rounds until later in the evening. You were sent to deliver Jerome’s dinner. You’d resolved that you’d forget about earlier that day and remain as friendly as when you’d first met with him. You were about to knock on the door when you heard it. Laughter. You promptly slid the meal through the door and turned around. Maybe you’d go in some other time._

That was when you’d first met Jerome Valeska. You’d only known him a brief period before the breakout, and he’s already ingrained himself in your mind. Not a minute passes where you don’t remember his laughter, or his voice in your ear. Two months had past, and still he haunted you. You'd wake up at night screaming at the memories of him stalking you through the halls of Arkham. 

If you hadn't called the police, it could've been weeks before the police found anything suspicious about Arkham. Weeks being trapped in Jerome’s clutches...that is, if he wouldn't have killed you first.

You were at the Gotham docks, gazing out at the endless waters. You stopped here frequently on your daily walks, and often got lost in your thoughts at this point. You checked your watch. 2:05...you'd been standing there for a quarter of an hour.

You started your trek back home, you headed back into the city. You walked past the police department, and right when you turned the corner, police cruisers sped by you, sirens blaring. You blinked, the noise bringing you out of your barely conscious stupor. You watched the cruisers speed away until they disappeared from sight. Wasn't that the direction of Arkham Asylum? You shook your head at the thought. No, that's not where they're going. Gotham’s a big city, they could be heading literally anywhere else. That's what you told yourself.

You walked on, slightly fatigued from the gloomy weather of a city that rarely ever saw a blue sky. You used to listen to music on your headphones on these walks, until you learned that wearing headphones made you less alert to potential attackers and a bigger target, so you just walked with your phone in your pocket. Sadly, this made the walks seem longer.

Your phone vibrated, and you pulled it out of your pocket and read the caller ID. Cathy. You answered. “Hello?” You inquired.

“Y/N!” You heard Cathy exclaim. “Why is it that I'm only hearing now that you don't work at Arkham anymore?”

“Oh, sorry,” you said. “I've just been really tired, and I must have forgotten to tell you.” Only half a lie, you did remember to tell Cathy, you just decided not to. You were so exhausted from the whole ordeal of working at Arkham that you just hid in your apartment most of the time.

“Well, if you ask me, it’s a damn good thing,” Cathy said. “That place was taking up all your time, I honestly didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” You rolled your eyes. 

Cathy was a fairweather friend. She’s only concerned with the partying and girl’s nights that she’d seen in sitcoms, but she always had an excuse when things got too serious. There was no way she didn’t figure that you left Arkham. The near-breakout was all over the news for days, and even though your resignation wouldn’t have made the news, it wasn’t anything that a simple phone call couldn’t have solved. She knew you weren’t at Arkham anymore, but she didn’t want to be the one who had to deal with any marks the place might have left on you, she probably waited until now to give you time to air out whatever bad feelings that were left over before bothering with you. You knew this before, but you were fine with hanging out with her, you just didn’t trust her. But after Arkham, you had a lower tolerance for her behavior, and you had to take a deep breath before answering.

“Well, I’m back now,” you said halfheartedly.

“Y/N!” Cathy exclaimed. “We need to hang out tonight! What do you say we go out for some drinks later?”

“Sorry Cathy,” you said, muttering a quiet “excuse me” to an annoyed pedestrian that bumped into. “I was planning on doing some job hunting when I got home. I’m also not into going out right now, you know, because after everything I had to deal with at Arkham…”

“You need time, I get it,” Cathy said, never being one to shy away from hearing someone else’s sobstory. “Well, if you’re ever feeling up to it, you can always give me a ca-”

“Thanks, Cathy, I will,” you said. “Bye.”

“Y/N-”

You hung up on her. You saw your apartment building ahead, and hurried to get inside. Now that it had come up in your conversation with Cathy, you did need to do some job hunting. You said hello to the doorman as you walked in. You took the elevator to the fourth floor. Your home wasn’t anything special, but it was heaven to you. You used to dream of living in a city like New York or Gotham. When you grew older, you came to learn that Gotham was much more dangerous, but the real estate was also much more affordable, so that’s where you ended up.

The elevator dinged at your floor, and you got off. You walked down the uncomfortably silent hallway. You unlocked your door and went inside your apartment.

You knew something was wrong the moment you walked in. The lamp next to your couch was on, and you distinctly remembered all the lights being off when you left earlier. You set your things on the couch. You paused, and listened to hear if anyone was moving around. You heard movement in the kitchen at first, and then the refrigerator door shut. Your breath caught in your throat.You saw the intruder’s shadow on the wall in the doorway of the kitchen. And then you heard it. The silhouette’s mouth opened up and you heard that haunting laughter. The laughter of one of the city’s worst tormentors. It was a low chuckle, and each time you heard it you’d feel your skin crawl just a little more. Your jaw dropped and you watched in horror as the shadow grew larger and larger on the wall until its owner was standing in the doorway, slicing an apple in his hands.

You felt as though your insides had tangled within themselves when his eyes met yours. The wicked grin on his face only grew wider when he saw you. He stepped toward you, and you stepped away. This only amused him. He tore his eyes away from you to set the apple and knife on an end table by the door. His movements were slow, as though he were putting carefully thought into every move he made, which wasn’t the behavior you’d known from him.

“What?” he inquired, looking up at you. “No ‘welcome’, or ‘how do you do’ for an old friend?”

“How did you find out where I live?” you said, attempting to keep your voice strong and firm, even though your whole body was tensed from seeing him.

“Oh!” said Jerome, perking up as if you had just reminded him that he was going to tell you. He pointed his finger up, as if he was going through the memory in his head. “It was actually pretty easy, since no one at Arkham bothers to do paperwork. Your file was still laying around when I broke out.” His smile was so unsettling, you felt sick just by looking at him. You could believe that your file was still sitting around for Jerome when he’d broken out, the upkeep of Arkham was always a mess when you’d worked there.

“Why are you here, Jerome?” you asked plainly. You were trying to figure out a way distract him so you could run out the door and call the police, if you could only make your way back to the door.

“Why, I’m here to pick you up,” Jerome said, grinning that evil grin. At this, you took another step away from him. “Now that I’m out of Arkham, I can take you home with me.” You struggled to hide your disgusted grimace at those words.

“My home is here Jerome, and I’m not going anywhere with you,” you remember your phone in your hand it held it out. “I called the police when I heard you in the kitchen. If I were you, I’d get out of here before they come and arrest you.”

The grin disappeared from his face. “Well, I won’t lie to you, Y/N,” he said. “That’s very disappointing.” There was one moment of complete silence, and in that moment you’d had the time to realize that you’d made a huge mistake. In the next moment, he charged you. You screamed as he shoved you against the door. He placed his hand over your mouth, quietly shushing you as his other hand wrapped around your neck, just below your jaw. He squeezed and shifted his hand upward, and your vision began to blur. At the time, you thought he was killing you, but he was only knocking you out. You’d come to wish he had killed you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly I don't know how to write the beginnings of stories DX Sorry this was excessively long and only had a brief Jerome scene, but it's gonna be all action from here on out.
> 
> PS writing morbid Jerome jokes is actually really hard


	3. Creating Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader has time to evaluate her situation. Memories of Arkham remind her of who she is dealing with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, but don't worry, I'm still interested in finishing this story. (Though I'm sure that school's going to knock me into place with these slow updates)

_Blue._ The first thing you could make out was the color blue. There was thin line of the color running over your leg as you were laid down. You followed the line with your eyes and saw it was coming from a window that had its curtains drawn. You tried to get up to move toward it, but you couldn’t move your legs. You looked down at them again and this time you saw that your legs were bound together by a rope. Your hands were tied together, too. You yelled out, but your scream was muffled by a gag put in your mouth. All you could do was fall around the bed, flopping around like a fish out of water.

Even though you knew it was a useless effort, you kept screaming and trying to wriggle free. You could barely see a thing in the darkness of the room, you eventually fell off the mattress. You hit your head on the bed post on the way down. You moaned in pain when you hit the ground.

On the other side of the room, you could hear a door open. Bright light poured in, and then a light flickered on. You flinched, squeezing your eyes shut. Your head throbbed from the injury and the sudden lighting wasn’t helping at all. 

You heard footsteps come toward you. You could have guessed who it was, but the sickening chuckle confirmed it. You faced away from him, and you were too afraid to turn and meet his eyes. You felt him kneel down next to you, and you could mentally picture the malevolent grin on his face as he looked down at you.

“Aw, Y/N,” he said to you. “Did you fall off of the bed? I’d be more careful, people have died from that, you know.” His tone was so casual, as if he hadn’t kidnapped you and tied you up. You felt his arms snake around your waist. You yelled into your gag, but your voice only came out muffled. Jerome pulled you into his chest, shushing you. You shut your eyes again as you screamed, until you felt a pressure on top of the gag. At first you thought that it was his finger, but then you realized he’d put a knife to your mouth.

“This is how things are going to play out, Y/N,” Jerome growled into your ear. “I’m going to take your gag off and trust that you won’t start screaming and trying to wake up the entire block. If you raise your voice at all I won’t hesitate to cut your throat open.” He pulled the knife away from you only slightly. “Plus this neighborhood’s been abandoned for years, so it really wouldn’t be worth all the trouble.” You felt the gag loosen as Jerome cut it off.

“Why am I here?” you whimpered. “What do you want from me?”

“Oh, well I thought I made it obvious, Y/N,” Jerome said. “I want you. I know that deep down, that you see things my way. You’ve seen people in this city, how they all wander in the same daze like helpless little ants. I know that you’ve secretly wanted to rise above them like I did, and turn this city into a kingdom in your image, one where everyone has a smile on their-”

“You’re delusional,” you told him. “No sane person can ever see things the way that you do. You need professional help, Jerome. If you go back to Arkham, they can help you.”

“Oh, please,” Jerome rolled his eyes, shoving you out of his arms. He stood up, and paced away from you. “You know, with everything else you’ve got going for you, it’s a little upsetting that you really don’t have a sense of humor.”

“Oh, give it up, Jerome,” you spat, giving up the good cop act. “This whole schtick as Gotham’s notorious killer comedian has already been overplayed. Absolutely no one outside your little cult remembered you when you died, and there certainly weren’t many whispers in the streets after your ass got sent back to Arkham. You’re so desperate to leave an impression but you always come out of your schemes barely remembered at all.”

Jerome set the knife down on an end table next to the bed. He looked at you with pursed lips. You felt your insides churn, his silence somehow more frightening than his laugh. He moved his hand slowly away from the end table. You watched his movements carefully, fearful of what he might do. There was something truly unsettling about the slow, methodical Jerome you were seeing. You even flinched when he spoke again.

“You know, you do have a point,” he said, returning to his casual, nonchalant demeanor as he paced around the bed towards you. He grinned at your reaction to him only speaking. You wondered if the long pause was only for the benefit of scaring you. He sat at the edge of the bed, folding his hands over his knees. “But you can’t really blame any of that on me not having the vision to be a star here. A majority of those schemes-as you called them- were planned by Galavan, and that guy wasn’t much of an artist.” He smirked at you. “And when I came back from the dead, I’ll admit I got carried away, but only because I’d missed so much of the fun being dead. I was just trying to get caught up is all.” _Why the hell is he trying to explain himself to me?_ You thought, you couldn't believe that he was actually trying to make his failures seem less to you.

He got off of the bed and knelt in front of you. He grabbed your still tied hands and held them in his. You refused to meet his eyes, and instead looked at your hands as you tried to wriggle them out of his. The only indication that he noticed this was him grasping your hands tighter. Other than that, he spoke to you in a calm tone of voice. “And now,” he said, holding one of your cheeks in his hand. His very touch made you want to jump out of your skin. “Now I’ve got you to rule this city by my side.”

You cast your eyes downward, trying to think of some way you could get out of this. You felt Jerome’s hand stroke through your hair. “Give it time, Y/N,” Jerome cut your hands free and let go of you, allowing you to scoot away from him. He got up and went to the door. “I know you'll start to see things the right way.” He opened the door and left, shutting and locking it behind him.

You got up. You looked down at yourself. You were wearing the same black sweater and jeans he'd kidnapped you in, so he hadn't gone as far as changing you.

You glanced over to the window. You leapt toward it and threw the curtains back. You grabbed at the bottom, but it'd been bolted shut. Convenient.

You looked around the room. The bed had two end tables on either side. You went to the one closest to the door, and opened the drawer. Empty. You went over to the other one. This one had a note on top of a bundle of cloth.

_There’s nothing here to help you get out of here, Doll. I'll forgive your attitude if you accept this gift I left for you._

_\--J_

J, he signed. There was something ironic about him giving himself a pet name, but you were too tired and scared to appreciate it. You grabbed the bundle and unfolded it. You snorted when you saw it. They were your regular pajamas from home. He must have grabbed it from your bed when he was in your apartment. So you're supposed to become his little pet and grateful servant because he grants you something to sleep in?

Not. Likely.

You looked around. Aside from the door Jerome came through, there were two others. You tried the door he left through. Locked. You weren't surprised. The door on the adjacent wall opened to reveal an empty walk-in closet. There weren't even any hangars. You checked the ground for anything that could be used as a lock pick, but no such luck. You left the closet.

You went to the neighboring door and found a bathroom. It was a little grungy in its set-up, but it looked fairly clean. It was around eight by seven feet, the shower had a black-tile interior, and it’s glass door was misted so it couldn't be seen through either way. Sitting across from the shower was the toilet, and immediately next to it was the sink and mirror. You half-expected the toothbrush sitting there to be your red lightsaber one from home, but it wasn't. Sitting there was a bright pink toothbrush with a gold handle that said “Doll” on it in fancy red lettering. You rolled your eyes. This boy sure knows how to make a girl feel special.

You turned around and noticed the rack next to the door, containing showering necessities, toilet paper, and a single, plain, black hairbrush.

 _What, no fancy inscriptions for the hairbrush?_ You thought to yourself as you walked out of the bathroom. You sighed as you glanced around the tiny room one more time. As of right now, there was no conceivable way out of this room. You looked out the window. It was pitch black, you couldn’t see past the fire escape. Realizing how late it must have been, you suddenly felt very tired. How long were you knocked out, anyway?

 _But is it a good idea to sleep in this place?_ You wondered to yourself. You reasoned that the exhaustion would only get worse, and you'd need your energy if you were ever to get out of this place. You returned to the pile of clothing you'd set on the bed so that you may change into them.

An old band t-shirt and a pair of F/C flannel pajama pants. A part of you felt a little grossed out that Jerome touched your pajamas, as silly as it was, compared to all of the more horrifying things he had done and was capable of. You changed out of your clothes from that day and into the pajamas, and buried yourself underneath the blanket of the bed.

You found yourself staring outside the window rather than trying to sleep. Let there be no mistake, every part of you felt disgusted by Jerome, and the idea of falling in love with him horrified you. When you woke up, you would spend the day, and whatever day that would follow with this monster, planning your escape. You would not be ruled by this man...this _boy._

You remembered him in Arkham. He'd always disturbed you, and you never would have suspected that he was attracted to you. No, you corrected yourself. He was obsessed with you. You believed any signal from to be an attempt to recruit a new crony to his cause. For whatever reason, you'd caught his attention, but he surely didn't harbor any true feelings of intimacy toward you. Chances are once he got bored of you, he would gift you with a very bloody, artful death.

You would not be fooled.

\---

_There’s no need for the slot, Y/N, you told yourself as you walked down the hallways with a tray of food for Jerome. He hasn't tried to attack you, he just has a very twisted sense of humor…that he ties murder into._

_You'd been trying to convince yourself that there wasn’t anything to be feared in Jerome, and so far it was succeeding in getting you through the hallways, but you weren't sure if you wanted to see Jerome again. You kept trying to reason with yourself that everything would be fine. You wouldn't be very good at your job if you just stopped interacting with patients after every first meeting, no matter how...unsettling they may be._

_You knocked on the door before letting yourself in. Jerome was sitting on his bed...with a newspaper. He looked up at you._

_“Ah, Y/N!” he greeted. “I was hoping to see you again!”_

_“Hello, Jerome,” you said. “I hope you're adjusting well to being back at Arkham?”_

_“Well, I have no complaints,” he said, nodding at you. “My fellow inmates have only gotten louder since I'd been gone, but I guess that's just the general atmosphere of the place.”_

_“If the noise is preventing you from sleeping at night, I'm sure a room reassign-” he waved his hand at you dismissively._

_“No, there's no need to worry yourself over that,” he said cordially. “Besides, what livens a place up more than the screams of a lively bunch like this?” He began to swing his hand down like he was swinging a gavel. “Guilty, guilty, guilty!” He began impersonating one of the other patients. He grinned at you. “Follow the fold, or be mad as hatter, when in need of a laugh, I prefer the latter!”_

_You felt a laugh bubble up inside you when seeing his somewhat exaggerated impression of Jervis Tetch, but you held it in. It would be severely unprofessional to laugh at the inmates at Arkham with one its other patients. Jerome seemed to notice your amusement though, and dropped his body gestures._

_“Can I tell you something, Y/N?” he asked you._

_“Of course,” you told him. “But I'm at liberty to tell you that anything you say to me that I feel I should tell the director-”_

_“Oh it's fine!” he said. He scooted to the end of his bed, closer to you. “It’s just that, I feel like I can trust you. Somehow, I get this feeling that you’re just like me.” his voice got lower, more gravelly, but his friendly expression remained._

__What in the hell? _You thought to yourself. What were you supposed to say when a literal murderer draws a similarity between the two of you? You swallowed. “Oh, you think so?”_

_“I sure do,” his smile was so sinister, but somehow that’s what made you want to hear what he had to say. “Everyone in this city, this world, live like robots, and the only thing they have to comfort themselves is their idea that they’ll always be protected by their laws in their cities and countries. But disrupt those laws, strip them away, and everything falls to chaos. Some people get crushed like bugs, but some rise to their new freedom and do the crushing.”_

_“Let me guess,” you humored him. “We’re the ones doing the crushing?”_

_“Not as simple as that, Y/N,” he stared into your eyes, and you couldn’t look away. “We’re the chosen few that create the chaos.” For a brief moment, you felt something in the air between the two of you, something deadly. You broke eye contact to check your watch._

_“I-i’m sorry, Jerome,” you sputtered out. ‘“But I need to be getting to the...other patients. I trust you’re all good?”_

_“All is well with me,” he said, playfully formal. “Until next time, and hopefully I see you sooner.”_

_You nodded, and almost bolted toward the door. “Right, until next time, Jerome.” The door slammed shut behind you as you hurried away from the room._

_Unbeknownst to you, his smile remained, following you down the hallway. Once you were out of earshot, he erupted into laughter._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Another one down. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and sorry about the wait! Hopefully Jerome making more appearances on Gotham will give me more inspiration to write faster :/


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